Pretence
by the14th
Summary: 'What is it you need then, my friend' - 'Hate. Fury. To kill Shaw.' - 'Yes, I know,' Charles replies patiently despite his bruising cheek, his sore throat and his broken heart. 'And I won't stop you. Just let me protect you... let me try.' CHERIK oneshot


_A/N This is my first X-Men fanfiction to be published, I've written several already but never found the courage to actually share them like this. Anyway I really hope you like it - if you do please let me know (and if you don't ditto)!_

_Beware, this story contains physical and psychological violence and hints of homoerotic romance!_

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><p>Charles has been told so often how wonderful his gift is. That telepathy is so much more profound than all those mutations that are basically only used in combat, like Alex's plasma blast. That it really suits him because he's such an open-minded, considerate and sympathetic man. That they really <em>envy <em>him.

Still no one is willing to let him use it. Everyone is so busy with themselves that they don't realise that suppressing his powers is just as much a torment for him than it would be for any other. It is a side of him he can't just shut it off. It's impossible to simply stop sensing other people's minds like it would be to stop seeing, smelling, tasting, _feeling_.

He understands that they want to keep their thoughts private, he understands perfectly because when he does enter someone's mind he feels the way they do and he knows how frightened they are, how much of a threat his gift is to them.

Nonetheless it frustrates him that no one's ever willing to listen – listen and understand that projecting his own thoughts and feeling doesn't necessarily mean to read someone's mind. Everyone's so scared and hysterical and it… oppresses him.

This perpetual mistrust, it hurts. Yes he could harm them, yes he could trick them - they don't even know how easily he could do it! Yet it's not like he's an exception. If Hank punched someone right in the face, that would hurt too – and still no one demands that he hides in his room so he won't put the others in danger. And if Erik was to walk out on them, change sides and form an alliance with Shaw, no one would hesitate to call that betrayal! Yet everyone's always so delighted when they watch him letting small metal objects flying around the room. And yes of course it is impressive, after all Charles is what you might call Erik's biggest fan, still… Charles's gift is impressive too, everyone says so at least. But all the same he has to go and hide in a metaphorical room, at least a part from him, because his telepathy is a part of him, too!

Not even his sister has enough faith in him to trust that he won't read her thoughts. Not even Erik, whom he considers his best friend, maybe his only real friend. He's rarely entirely at ease in Charles's company and it hurts, because he trusts Erik with his life. But thanks to this so-called _gift_, that often seems to be more of a curse, he will always be lonely. So very lonely.

He's learned to live with it even so sometimes he can't help but wish that he wasn't psychic. But then he has to ask himself, what he would be instead? Without his powers he would be nothing but a naïve and dull fool without a purpose.

What's worst, though, is that these feelings aren't new to him at all. This isn't a big revelation after which everything will turn out for the better. No, thoughts like this blossomed in Charles's heart when he was a young boy and they have stayed and grown there since. And they make him hate himself, because he's weak for not fighting for his rights and against his oppression.

He's weak for always putting the others first, no matter how odd that may sound.

They won't accept him even when he uses his telepathy only to help them. And they won't accept him for the rest of him either, because the threat is all they see. There's no such thing as Charles Xavier, there's just Charles Xavier, the telepath.

But that's how things are in Charles Xavier, the telepath's world and that's how they'll always be… unless a miracle happened.

So being the naïve dull fool whose only purpose it is to protect the ones he cares about, he hides and yet uses his powers to watch over the people that make him feel like he's a danger to everyone in his reach.

He never stops to watch over them, always leaves their minds connected, a network of mental strings. Should something happen that puts their minds in turmoil they would send stronger signals and should any of them be in a real emergency, the pulse would be strong enough to reach Charles and he would be there to help them as soon as he could.

Now when he lies awake again one night, tossing and turning in his bed, there is a sudden pain, a bolt, a wave of anxiety, and he knows that it's time to save someone again.

Instinctively he starts with Raven, approaching her mind carefully, relieved when he finds that she is asleep peacefully dreaming of Hank and cake and her and Charles as children.

He moves on to Hank, who's dreaming of Raven, to Sean, shaking his head worriedly as he sees that the teen is still up watching some superhero movie, to Alex, who's fallen asleep on the sofa next to Sean, dreaming of two adults who Charles suspects to be his parents.

Finally he reaches out for Erik. He'd hoped that it was one of the children, so he wouldn't risk the small amount of trust he'd managed to attain over the weeks, but somehow he'd just known.

It's not hard to find his way into Erik's head since his mind is pretty much screaming and howling.

He does his best to be gentle, to try to find out what the problem is without actually violating him but Erik is just in such a mess that it is impossible to find a way through the chaos from the distance. So Charles softly slips into his nightmare, and as soon as he's inside he's being overwhelmed by emotions. Shock anxiety sorrow fury hurt disappointment betrayal hate hopelessness love and so so much fear.

He's in the middle of a crowd and the presence of the dozens of people around him presses down on him, chokes him. He's scared. A man and a woman, his… parents. No, don't leave. Please don't leave me. He's alone, he's so scared. And then the men grab him and pull him further away, and their grip around his limbs hurt and there is nothing he wishes more than to be back in his mother's arms. And he longs to be somewhere else. With his mother and father. Mother. He stares up at the sky. His gaze drops. The gates close. No. No, no, no. This is his last chance. He struggles, kicks, screams, cries and begs. And the metal obeys.

Finally Charles is able to free himself of the horrendous scene and finds his way through Erik back to himself. Still in the dream but only as a bystander, he takes a moment to collect himself. _Erik!_

_Erik,_ he calls, _please calm yourself!_

The movement around him slows, the whole dream world slows. _Erik! _ he tries again. _This is a dream, my friend. It's just a dream!_

Little Erik turns around to face him, the rest of the surroundings frozen. He stares at him, eyes confused at first. _Wake up, Erik._ Charles says softly.

_Wake up._

Everything goes black and Charles is about to sigh in relief - it's over. But then a wave of anger and disappointment hits him. _I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING STAY OUT OF MY HEAD CHARLES! _Erik's voice in his head is shaking with fury.

_- But I wanted to-_, he tries to argue.

But Erik shuts him out, and it hurts.

Charles considers fighting against his friend's mental barrier but he comes to the conclusion that using his telepathy now probably isn't the best solution. So he gets up to confront him face to face.

Walking down the corridor, he can hear footsteps approaching. Quick, menacing, resolute footsteps.

He's worried; he has obviously hurt his friend although it was never his intention of course, he was just trying to protect him – from himself.

They meet halfway and as he makes out Erik's silhouette in the dark he realises how different he looks. His shoulders are pulled up to his chin, strong and intimidating, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. And when he steps into the moonlight that pours inside through the large window, Charles holds his breath because he doesn't recognise his friend anymore.

"Erik." He breathes, and for the split of a second they just look at each other – fear rising up in Charles's heart, his throat tightening.

Erik is wounded, a wounded furious animal. And he leaps. His fist connects with Charles's left cheek and sends him stumbling back against the wall. He gasps, bringing his hand up to touch the throbbing flesh. Erik takes a long step towards him, grabs the collar of his shirt and slams him into the panelled bricks.

"I told you," he growls in a low voice, "to stay _out of my fucking head_."

Erik's grip hurts and makes it harder and harder to breathe properly but Charles manages to stutter, "I-I know and I'm very sorry but-"

"_Fuck_ you and your damned excuses, Charles!" Erik cuts in, letting go of his shirt, shoving his fore arm against his throat instead, however.

Charles coughs hoarsely. Erik's face is so close, their noses almost touching, their gazes locked. He doesn't think he'd mind being so close to Erik under normal circumstances but… not like this. Erik's eyes are full of resentment, betrayal and hurt.

"I've had enough of your fucking mind-control! I trusted you, Charles." No you didn't.

"But you can't stop yourself from reading my thoughts." Yes I can, for god's sake!

"And you know why? Because you're a fucking control freak, that's why!" … No. I'm not. "Erik, _please_…"

For a second sea green eyes soften and Charles takes his chance. "Erik, I sensed you were in trouble – I wanted to _help_ you! I am sorry if I hurt you but I just couldn't watch you suffer like this!"

Erik's stare hardens again and he grits his teeth as he now wraps his long fingers around the telepath's throat in a painful grip. "I don't need help. I don't need this ridiculous 'family' as you call it." He inches even closer, so close Charles can feel his hot, shaky breath upon his lips. "And most of all," he hisses, "I don't need _you_."

An agonising pain flares up in Charles's chest and he feels something break into thousand pieces. But he needs to stay calm, needs to remind himself that Erik's not himself right now. His eyes are the ones of a rabid animal, not a man. This is not Erik, this is not _my _Erik.

"What do you need then, my friend?" Charles asks, his voice almost inaudible and quavering.

Erik's grip slackens slightly. He doesn't even seem to be aware of the title anymore and Charles has to smile inwardly because he still can remember him struggling against it oh so vividly.

"For the last time, I am _not _your friend, Xavier!" Erik had groaned in frustration and Charles had smiled at him because he already saw his resolve crackling, "As long as I do consider you a friend, I may as well call you that, for it doesn't matter if you feel the same way about me for me to value your company." It had been the last time Erik had commented on the habitual address.

"What I need is…" Erik hesitates. "Hate. Fury. To kill Shaw."

Charles nods desperately, "I know and that's what we're all working on, finding Shaw!"

"I'm going to _kill_ him!"

"Yes, I know," Charles repeats patiently despite his bruising cheek, his sore throat and his broken heart. "And I won't stop you."

There is moment of silence, both of them take a deep breath and it seems as if Erik has calmed a bit. So Charles tries again, "I promise, I don't want to stop you. I want to help you. I'm not saying you can't do it on your own, but it's going to be easier with us – with _me_ at your side."

Erik doesn't say anything, he just stares at him. Charles would take this as a good since weren't it for the intense animosity in his eyes.

"It's going to be really dangerous. Please, let me protect you." Charles swallows hard, though it is rather difficult with a thumb pressing against his larynx. "Let me try."

For a split second it looks like he has won but Erik shoves him against the wall once again, his fingers now pressing against Charles's jawbone painfully.

"Why were you in my head?" He asks lowly, dangerously. At least he's willing to argue, Charles thinks, trying to be the optimist he usually is.

"I felt that you were in trouble-"

"So you were inside my head already?" Erik shouts.

"No!" Charles cries in frustration. "Oh for god's sake, can we move this somewhere else? You'll wake the kids!"

Erik stares at him in confusion. He takes a hesitant look around, the first time in minutes taking his eyes off the telepath before him. It seems as if he's forgotten where they are, and suddenly takes a step backwards.

His hand falls down to rest on Charles's chest but he doesn't seem to notice. Charles himself is unsure whether he should still be wary since Erik's potential of violence is obviously elevated or interpret it as an affectionate gesture. He half hopes, half fears that it's neither.

Erik turns back to face him and his eyes go soft as he stares at Charles's bruised face and it looks like he's about to touch his wounded cheek gently, but then anger flares up in his eyes again and, looking a little torn, he grabs Charles by the collar again and pushes him into the room.

He can hear Erik closing the door behind them, as he stumbles against a bookshelf. Feeling relatively safe now, he slumps against it, the spines pressing into his skin. He touches his throbbing cheek tentatively and winces as pain shoots through his flesh.

He can hear Erik taking a reluctant step towards him. "I'm-" Apologise. Please apologise, so I can apologise and we can be friends again.

But Erik shakes his head and instead he asks, "What were you doing in my head?" And Charles looks up wearily, his eyes wet because of the pulsing in the side of his face.

"I-" He wonders where he should begin. If he starts giving Erik a speech on the fundamentals of telepathy he'll only get furious again. "I was about to go to bed, when I sensed there was something wrong. So I tried to figure out what it was and since I was worried, I checked on everyone – telepathically. I didn't read their minds or anything, I just…" He's trying his best to express himself without euphemisms or too many adjectives, anything to calm Erik down. It's just so hard to explain! How do you explain a blind child the act of seeing?

"Can you stop sensing metal?" He suddenly asks, watching Erik closely.

"What?"

"Metal, you can sense it, right? Every single tiny little piece around you." Erik nods hesitantly. "And can you stop? Just shut it out?"

"No." He admits. Charles nods contentedly.

"It's the same with my telepathy. I can't stop being aware of all the people's minds around me, it's like any other sense to me, like seeing or hearing. That doesn't mean that I'm reading your mind though, but if there is drastic change, like a loud noise, I can't help but notice no matter how hard I try to shut everything out!"

Erik looks at him pensively, considering what he said. "So you… _heard _my nightmare?"

"In a way, yes!" Hope blossoms inside him at Erik finally cooperating. "I didn't know it was a nightmare, however. You could have tripped and broken a leg or something like that, so I just had to check on you."

"And why didn't you just… retreat after finding I was having a bad dream and walk over to wake me like everyone else would have?" Because I'm _not _like everyone else.

"As soon as I'm in your head, I feel the things you do. Usually I've got no problem distancing my thoughts from yours, but a nightmare… these are exceptional circumstances. In nightmares emotion dominate and your emotions, your… _fear_," Erik's head shoots up and he stares at him warily, "they overwhelmed me for a moment. This shouldn't have happened, but I swear to you it was only a few seconds before I regained my control and woke you."

He lets the word sink in while watching Erik closely, whose green eyes are fixed to the ground, his brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

"I am so very sorry to have hurt you, my friend. I swear it was never my intention." He adds in a soft voice.

Erik finally looks up and their eyes meet and there he is - the Erik he knows, _his _Erik.

"I believe you." The words sink in and make all the pain go away, make Charles feel so relieved he could hug the man in front of him. But he doesn't dare. He can't stop the smile that's already creeping upon his lips, but he doesn't dare to move an inch.

"Just… don't ever do it again."

"I promise!" Charles says, his shy smile transforming into a grin. Then he winces in pain because his wounded cheek apparently doesn't approve of him being happy.

He can hear Erik release a sharp breath and take a tentative step towards him.

"About that…" Charles looks up and sees regret in his eyes. "I am… sorry. I overreacted. I didn't mean to hurt you." Yes, you did.

Charles smiles at him warmly and says, "It's alright."

Erik closes the distance between them and reaches out softly to touch the bruising skin. Charles tries not to flinch. Paradoxically Erik's touch feels soothing and warm. Although it actually hurts and it's not exactly what you'd call affectionate, two cold unmoving fingers pressing against swollen skin. He can tell Erik's still mad at him.

The long fingers travel down his cheek, along his jaw line, until they halt beneath his chin. He pushes demandingly, forcing Charles to lift his head so Erik can examine his neck.

He can still feel the fingers dig into his skin, he has no doubt that the marks will be visible for several days to come.

"I am a violent man with very little self-control." Erik says shakily, his fingertips ghosting over his aching flesh. "All I can do is warn you not to provoke me like this ever again."

Charles isn't sure whether it's a warning or a threat but he nods nonetheless, feeling exhausted all of the sudden. And he stumbles forward, arms wrapping around Erik's strong back, burying his face in the nape of his neck, yearning for comfort and warmth and Erik, just _Erik_.

'Perhaps', he thinks, stiffling a yawn, 'perhaps all this wasn't worth nothing after all and I'll finally be able to sleep.'

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><p><em>A review would make me very, very happy!<em>


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